My Supernatural Blog
by LadyBek
Summary: ScreenName: DaeIchor Password: samWsmd67 FullName: Daelene Jesta BirthDate: August 12 1989 DescribeYourBlog: I was told to start a blog. I guess I will be venting about the Winchesters, and maybe use this to record some cases. Maybe, if anyone cares, I can give some tips on how to spell-cast or hunt- Please leave hunting to professionals. SAM DONT ADD THINGS TO MY DESCRIPTION
1. Say Cheese I Need A Cover Image

Sammy, who I can see smirking at me from behind his own laptop, has convinced me to start a blog. He says it helps to vent, or some bullshit.

What do I have to vent about? It's not like I'm still salty about the way they left me for dead—again—and forgot I even existed for three weeks while I rot in one of those angelic cells they have in Heaven. Castiel—who is, himself, an angel—found out where I was and had to strike a deal to spring me. Now I owe him, and he owes some nasty cherub.

And the Winchester brothers? They're off the hook, again. As usual. They screw themselves and their friends and then they move on without repercussion-

Apparently I was gut-punching the keys too hard so Sammy had to intervene. He would like me to say that they did try their best to NOT leave me for dead, but that if they tried any harder they would have had to rip a whole in reality.

(Which, might I add, is something that the brothers do for each other regularly.)

Also now a cherub is mad at me, somewhere in the Universe. This day could not get any better. Damn Castiel.

Let me explain a few things, if you intend to read more of these blogs.

1\. I am a witch.

2\. The Winchester brothers are hunters.

3\. Yes, we work together. No, we don't care what you think. Yes, they do reprimand me for the smallest dark spells.

4\. I'm useful so they've learnt to get over it.

5\. This is the most time I've spent on this laptop without researching spells or lore.

6\. I'm somewhat in love with Dean. He knows I am. He doesn't want to date a witch. As if I'm worse than some other unmentionables they've fucked-

Dean would like me to add that they have recognized their mistakes and that they do not need to be reminded of them constantly. Apparently it's not that I'm a witch that he won't date me. It's something about work relationships and that I'm not his type.

Which is bullshit, by the way. I have a beating heart and have, on occasion, been a damsel in distress. I'm distressed right now!

I need to find a new place to write. A corner, maybe. Somewhere they won't be looking over my shoulder when I write.

This was a terrible idea.

I'm never listening to Sam again.

Disclaimer: I DID NOT LET THAT DEMON GO

I DID NOT

STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE I'VE GONE DARK SIDE

I AM NOT SECRETLY TALKING TO SOMEONE ONLINE

I AM HIDING MY SCREEN BECAUSE I AM SICK OF YOUR CRITIQUES

FOR EXAMPLE, SAMMY, STOP CORRECTING MY GRAMMAR WHEN I LEAVE TO GET A DRINK

I AM A WITCH NOT A SCHOLAR, YOU NERD

-DaeIchor

7\. Oh, yeah. My name is Dae. I have golden eyes, tainted by the ichor of the gods. Thank you for reading.


	2. Amish Night Hag

DaeIchor Here! Welcome back.

It has been a wonderful Tuesday, if I may say so.

I returned from a case with Sammy only to pass out in the hallway and have to be carried to my room. I personally would not have been insulted if he'd left me there, as that's what I would do if he'd suddenly collapsed. He's huge! I wouldn't have a choice! We're safe here, in the bunker, so a little floor nap won't hurt.

You know those guys that are 6' and look like they've earned it? This guy—Sammy—has earned his height and then some. He's ripped—shredded—even for a hunter. He hasn't been Dean's little brother in years. If you saw him working out you'd faint.

...Just so you're aware, I am not at all concerned that he will be interrupting my blog today. He's with Dean, doing some grocery shopping. When they return I'll know it with enough warning to hide my blog and the last pie. Which is a terrible crime around here, especially when one knows that 'pie' was not written on the grocery list. Dean is going to be so mad.

And that means he'll hunt me down.

He'll probably threaten to throw me out on my ass, again.

Or say something that we both know he doesn't mean, like that I'm just another average evil witch that he should've put down when he first met me. He's silly like that. He likes to imagine I haven't improved his life.

To get back on topic, I guess I should mention exactly why I passed out when we entered the bunker.

We (me and Sam) encountered a case wherein a small Amish community were being attacked in their homes, at night, with no sign of intruders. The victims were found with their chests crushed, but the cause of death seemed to be heart failure...

They died of fright before whatever wanted them dead could cave in their ribcages.

I mentioned that this was not a PG blog, right? Well, now you know. Sorry, kids.

Anyway, we decided on the first night that we wouldn't sleep and would watch the townsfolk on an organized patrol. Half of the settlers were camped in the great hall, afraid to sleep alone. We were more worried about the families that detained themselves in their own homes.

Now, it was lucky they let us wander their community as we did. We had free reign as long as we didn't interfere with their day-to-day. Sam did get a lot of looks, which pissed me the hell off, but we were mostly just curious guests.

Walking into a home to check on sleeping people was still frowned upon in the community, especially for outsiders. That made the job a lot harder.

And...

And I wish we'd just left those families alone. No children had been attacked, and the adults who refused to stay in the great hall were too stubborn to deal with. But we wanted to save everyone, as usual.

I tried to watch over everyone. I used what magic I could without scaring the locals, which was barely any. Without knowing what we were dealing with, I had even less spells to choose from.

When we checked on one family, in the corner of the community housing zone, we missed our first chance to catch the creature that haunted the community.

We didn't hear a scream. We weren't sought out. No one said a thing or moved from their spots. When we stepped into the hall, an hour after the incident, just following our patrol route, we found the entire community knelt around the victim's body.

When we asked them why they couldn't have tried to find us, they just gave us dirty looks and started huddling together, speaking in hushed voices.

The vic, crushed ribs and face frozen in terror, was set aside to be ceremoniously buried later as per the custom.

We were no closer to figuring out what happened, especially when no one would tell us what they saw or heard.

Fuck. I gotta tell you. I am never going back there. Not that I would be permitted to.

Sam could visit whenever he wants. He's not a proud witch.

(I had a very heavy argument with one of the children. I tried to convince them that not all witches are evil. I guess not everyone can see the beauty in power.)

I tried to protect the people. I did.

We learnt nothing, and we went without sleep for another night, once again failing to save someone. We were beat.

I told Sam to sleep, during the day, just outside the limits of the community. He was in my car, a little inconspicuous grey Camry. They hate it, but I like not drawing attention on the road.

I was just outside, doing research on Alps and such, when I heard him struggling.

Dean would never forgive me if he knew that I almost got his brother killed.

The tiny, Tolkien-esque goblin was on top of Sammy's chest, hissing at him with a gnarled snout. Its fingers were curled around Sam's arms, holding him down. The thing was strong.

I couldn't open the car door, at first. Sam was struggling, trying to reach a knife, a gun, whatever we had in the back seat. I quickly chanted, trying to quell the creature's power.

It didn't even look at me as it seemed to grow heavier over his chest. Sam was losing breath, gasping and groaning at the pain in his ribs.

I admit. I was terrified.

Sam isn't just a hunter, or a work partner. We're not as close as we could be, because none of us like to let people into our hearts, but we're friends! Seeing him in pain, his life at stake, I couldn't keep myself under control. My magic took over.

It's a scary thing for everyone involved. In this case, it was worse. I started another chant, speaking faster.

I stood directly in front of the back door, eyes burning from the golden ichor tainting them, and I reached through the glass window. The creature finally noticed me, reaching towards it and intending to strangle the life out of it, and it vanished.

I unlocked the car from the inside, dragged my hand through the slowly solidifying window, and opened the door. Sam still couldn't breathe properly. There were tears in his puffy eyes. He grasped at his chest, yelling and cursing. I can't imagine the pain he was in.

The locals helped me settle him down. I left him in their care for the time being. There was little I could do until we had a place where I could do an actual ritual. A place where I wouldn't get burned at the stake.

I was out of time. I was exhausted. I was at a disadvantage because I couldn't use magic.

Luckily, I had the internet.

Iron, for all you wanting to know. For a night hag like the kind we were facing, iron was the only thing I found that could hurt it. The other problem, I discovered late in the evening, was that I needed the creature to be in a corporeal form. Basically, I had to use Sammy as bait.

Never. Tell. Dean.

I mean it! Don't!

We won't. Sam promised it would be our little secret.

I felt like a shit friend for using him like I did. He was already hurt. It wasn't right. But we had more than just him to worry about. There was an entire community of people to save. There was a night hag to murder.

Sam understood that, and agreed to be my guinea pig. He was also somewhat happy to get another bout of sleep. I was on night 3 without.

Holy crap, never do that! Sleep is very important! Your body starts to shut down when you don't sleep and you are so much more vulnerable to all sorts of evils, and that's if you don't lose to your own body first. Sleep. Please. It's the best way to keep yourself in top shape to fight demons all day.

Which, Dean told me, is not something I'm supposed to be endorsing.

Sam slept. I watched him, iron stabby implement in hand.

It was so boring. I nearly fell asleep. Nearly. Until Sammy's breathing changed.

I had a single moment to kill that thing. I knew that once it noticed me it would be gone again. But if I didn't move fast enough, it would finish the job and break Sam's ribs.

I plunged the iron dagger into its flesh, and it roared so loudly it made me dizzy. I held strong to the dagger, twisting it around. The most terrifying thing was when it turned around. It didn't turn, actually. Its body moved through itself until, instead of facing Sam's wriggling limbs, it was reaching for me and staring into my eyes. I don't know what it saw, but I know what I saw. I saw Sam's nightmares—the things it had been feeding off of.

I gotta tell you; NEVER LOOK INTO A WINCHESTER'S NIGHTMARES. YOU WILL NEVER LOOK AT THEM THE SAME. YOU WILL WANT TO RUN AND SCREAM AND HIDE. YOU WILL WANT TO CLAW YOUR EYES OUT AND BLEACH YOUR OWN BRAIN.

IT IS NOT WORTH IT.

We made it back alright, after our goodbyes. I treated Sam once we were far enough away. He was still in pain when we made it back to the bunker, but there was no serious damage. There was just a little slight bruising left that made him uncomfortable.

The brothers are back now, so I have to go.

Thinking about all of this, I want to give Sammy a hug. I don't care how sore his ribs may be. I almost lost him.

I almost lost Sam.

Hey, this is Dean. Dae is terrible at locking her laptop. It's enchanted not to let certain hostile people get on it, and she thinks that's enough. I'm not mad at her for using Sam like she did. Okay, maybe a little. We all do things on the job that we don't enjoy. We all put our lives on the line.

Being a hunter is not a glamorous gig. We get hurt. We hurt each other. We lose each other. We see more death and evil in seven days than anyone should have to see in seven lifetimes.

The three of us, and Cass, and Jodie, and whoever else is in our crazy family these days, are all looking out for each other. We're also always preparing ourselves for the day when there is nothing we can do. What matters to me is that Dae got Sam back alive, and that Sam got Dae back alive. Tomorrow we'll see what happens. For now we are going to watch Heathers and pretend our lives aren't total shitfests.

(I made Dae go out to buy more pie.)


	3. Baseball Hex

The guys brought me to a baseball game earlier tonight. It was Castiel's idea, really. He'd never been to one, heard that there were angels in the outfield, and practically demanded to go see them for himself. He needed to inform them that using their angelic strength for sports wasn't fair, and thus not what their father would have wanted.

Side note: did you know that God himself wrote the Supernatural book series? I know. Talk about unfair advantage, right?

Well if He had written about the game He would have written about the all out fist fight Dean got into between the sixth and seventh innings. I'm not entirely sure what happened but this is what I learnt:

I asked, "Dean, what was that all about?" As I was tenderly treating his bloody knuckles, he refused to look at me, his left fist curled around the neck of a beer.

"Those guys were being jackasses. Don't think about it too much." He replied around a sip of bitter intoxication.

"It's kind of my job to worry about you boys." I smiled, because my smile is always on point so he totally digs it."Did they say something to you? You just followed them out to the parking lot and-bam!"

He was moody and silent for a long time. I used to get annoyed at the random pauses the Winchesters take, but they happen so often I've mostly gotten used to them. Mostly. Those boys are a fucking mess sometimes, I swear.

When I finished with his knuckles and started on his face, his gaze locked onto my concentrated eyes. I could see it. I'm not exaggerating this time. It was a moment, and I was scared to breathe in case I destroyed the bubble I was in.

He said, "They were talking about you and I didn't like it. I told them they should stop, and they told me to mind my own fucking business. They deserved everything they got."

"We tell people to mind their own fucking business all the time." Well, I do. Dean has never punched me in the face for it.

"They deserved it, okay?" He said louder. His eyebrows do the most wonderful things when he's angry, and his jaw clenches.

Did I mention I'm in love with him? I'm sure I did.

Here's the thing I'm obsessed with: Dean Winchester attacked some guys for talking shit about me. He defended my honor! My face is glowing right now, and it's not because of a spell this time!

This is me: :D

Okay, so it's not a confession of love or respect or anything close to admiration. Any one of my close friends would have done the same thing. Well, maybe not the EXACT same thing. Dean has his own way of doing things.

So while I was explaining to Castiel why singing "Take Me Out To The Ball Game" is a tradition, Dean was watching my back. This time it wasn't from a demon or a ghost or some weird new supernatural thing. It was just some annoying humans. Still, I'm very grateful. I'm blushing. I'm excited for my revenge to be enacted.

See, while Dean bruised them up a bit, they were a lot bigger than him. I didn't even think that was possible for anyone but Sam! I was mad and wanted to make sure that those assholes were messed up more than they messed up Dean, so I slipped some hex bags into their pockets.

If Dean had told me sooner what they were saying, what he wanted to do, I could have stepped in before they bloodied his nose. I could have had more fun with our revenge. I could have taken care of things much differently.

Instead I missed the end of the game to make my hexes, and then stalked the group of assholes to the bar around the corner unnoticed. I'm probably too good at what I do... Just kidding.

Oh, don't worry! They're not going to die or choke on their own blood or have their wives slowly go mad and bash their skulls in with the nearest blunt object...

I'm less...mean...thanks to the Winchesters.

The hex I gave them will decay after several weeks of making everything they eat taste like dirt sprinkled with ash and viscera.

I'm a much nicer person, nowadays.

After the confrontation, Dean had to stay outside the fence of the field, and I had to be the designated driver. Castiel refused to leave until the game was over. We couldn't leave him behind.

Also I needed time to work my magic, so it sort of worked out?

I'm tired. Tomorrow we hunt down a case to take our minds off of things. Maybe a ghost hunt will cheer Dean up. I can only hope.

Thanks again for reading, and for the feedback. I didn't think anyone would actually read my blogs!

Once again, I am Dae. I work with the Winchesters. I'm a witch, and damn proud of it.

Don't fuck with me.

Update: Dean made me take the hex bags back. Apparently I'm not allowed to fight my own battles.


	4. Ariel Is A Witch Too

August 1st

Sam woke up saying he found a news article from Anaheim, California. I knew what that meant the moment he said it.

TROUBLE. IN DISNEYLAND.

WE DEAL WITH TROUBLE.

WE HAVE TO RESPOND TO THESE CRIES FOR HELP.

WE HAVE TO GO TO DISNEYLAND.

TO BE HEROES.

TO WORK.

TO HUNT.

N

August 2nd

I can't believe how anxious I've been all day. On the one hand, WE ARE GOING TO DISNEYLAND. On the other, THERE ARE SHAPESHIFTERS IN DISNEYLAND.

HOW.

HOW DOES ANYONE COUNTER THAT?

THE CROWDS ARE HUGE!

The only upside is that because it's Disneyland, no one is going to wonder why we're sticking cameras in their faces. If they get angry, they are probably a shifter.

Dean says that if I have any spells that could help us see them without cameras I should be working on it.

I told him right back that magic can't solve everything. Technically I don't believe that that's true but I hate when it's assumed that magic is an end-all force. I'm probably going to get laughed at for referencing National Treasure, but when Riley gets angry that they tell him to do things, instead of asking if he could/would be willing to, I understand entirely.

"Hey, Dae, take down the ward." Do you have any idea how many different wards there are that could possibly be created? What if this one is super powerful and will take days? What if it's dangerous to tear it down? Don't just assume that I can-

Sam here. Dae is in a time-out.

In National Treasure, Riley forgets that the Nicholas Cage character, and the token blonde love interest, are essentially geniuses. They know Riley, and they know his set of skills. For all we know, he's previously done the exact same thing that Cage tells him to do. Which, by the way, was something incredibly illegal that had to be done. There was no room for niceties. Either Riley could do it, or they were royally screwed for multiple reasons.

Speaking of which, why were they pardoned for anything that they did? Especially in the second one, when they literally went out of the country specifically to do illegal things in order to do more illegal things-

I PULLED OVER FOR THIS CRAP.

Do you see what I'm dealing with here? Now they won't shut up about National Treasure. We are on our way to Disneyland to hunt shifters and the only thing these two idiots care about is Nic Cage. They are children.

And they are also forgetting that we do the exact same thing that Riley did on multiple occasions without any of us having to order each other around- Crap, now they've got me doing it.

Point is: we ask Dae to do things because she is indebted to us. She says so herself that all we have to do is ask. There is a huge difference between "Dae, can you do this?" and "Dae, do this."

The difference is time and urgency. She needs to understand that.

I'm about to drown myself in the damn lake if these two don't stop talking about National Treasure. They don't even remember that Nic Cage repeatedly gets them into legal trouble in London for the sake of some shitty clues that, really, should not have been so hard to find. Me and Sam could have done it better. Dae? She could have done way better.

August 3rd

DISNEYLAND TOMORROW!

We've been taking our time getting to Anaheim, but now we're almost there. It's so close I can taste it. It doesn't taste very appetizing, but that's not the point. I've never been to Disneyland and I hear it's even better for adults than it is for children.

I also hear that if I don't ride Space Mountain I'm never allowed to return. I think Dean is just trying to scare me, though. He told me that because Walt Disney's ashes were scattered over the grounds, that his ghost haunts the rides and causes random crashes when other supernaturals visit.

Actually, the way he said it... He has succeeded in scaring me more than the fact that a pack of shifters are running loose in the park. We still don't know if they are the kind to kill their prey, eat them, or just keep them trapped for the rest of their lives.

Shifters have always terrified me. Magic may help find them without their eyes glowing, but I don't use my camera phone often, even when I think a moment needs to be immortalized. I know a ritual that can put me directly into a memory to relive again and again as often as I want. Photos just don't have the same effect.

Oh! If you're confused, shapeshifters are literally that. They shed their skin to mimic another person, living or dead, real or not real. If the person is real and living, the shifter can access their memories and knowledge to be an even better version of their victim.

The only way to spot a shifter before they attack is to see their eyes in a camera—or spot them while they're shifting, but that's not something you want to do either. The process is painful and ugly. Absolutely hideous. And terrifying if it's slow enough. Every aching moment of their skin tearing away from their bodies and regrowing as new pigment-

Fuck, okay. I'm starting to freak out.

Basically, I have to advise you not to fuck with shapeshifters. You can probably handle a ghost on your own, as long as it's not particularly malicious. Other creatures may even be simple for you. Shapeshifters are never easy.

If I saw a shifter change into Dean... I mean, I would do what I had to do. But it would still mean killing Dean Winchester. It would tear my heart out.

And I've seen children shifters. I've seen elderly shifters. I've seen shifters just trying to get by. They are such sad, angry, ferocious beings. Practically cannibalistic. Thankfully I've never seen it in practice (at least not by a shifter).

If you're ever in a pinch and can't contact a hunter fast enough, then you'll need to decapitate the shifter or just stab it a bunch of times with something silver. Oh, and keep a dog nearby. They hate shifters more than anyone possibly could. Your adorable little pomsky that wouldn't hurt a fly? Vicious beast around a shifter.

Still, that's a last resort option.

Do. Not. Fuck. With. Shifters.

Got it?

Good.

August 4th, Morning

We made it! I can see the castle! I can see the hoards of humans scrambling for tickets and souvenirs! Food! Party hats! Mickey ears! Mascots!

I'm drooling. I am literally drooling.

All the rides! Space! Indiana Jones! Princesses! PRINCES!

And California adventure land!

This is the best day ever! I hope we can stay for an entire week! Sammy is smiling, which I think means he agrees. Dean is all business right now, but I see his lips quirking up. He wants to have fun, too. And I'll get to have fun with him!

Is there a Tunnel of Love in Disneyland?

I intend to find out.

More later.

I have to get in line!

August 4th, Noon

Sam: Dae can't write right now. She's distraught. We came to Anaheim for a hunt, and we were too late to help. A group of hunters has apparently made their home in the area and the moment the news had printed word about the shifters was the exact moment the problem was dealt with.

We travelled all this way for nothing. Aside from the fact that we got to see Dae get very excited about spending all of our money, we have gained nothing.

It's really sad to see her curled up in the Impala. She was ready to fight, and to enjoy herself. I guess we'll have to save up for a trip some other time.

August 4th, Evening

Dean here.

Sammy is an idiot. So is Dae for getting so excited.

We're here already. We got a hotel for the night and stuffed our faces until we couldn't move right. That's part of the fun of being on a vacation, isn't it?

So tomorrow I'm going to wake up early and buy us passes for all of the rides at both Disneyland and California Adventure. We will ride as many rides as we can before we puke, and then we'll rest and do it all again.

We deserve it. Dae deserves it. Sammy deserves it. Hell, I would invite Cas if he didn't have angel stuff going on.

This is going to give us all a big load off. Whatever those two want I'll make sure they get. Those hunters that dealt with the shifters said they have an in at the park. A little after hours tour to get the latest from some hunters? Sounds like the kind of thing we'd be interested in.

The only downside is that we couldn't hid the fact that Dae is a witch from them. I know she doesn't like to hide that about herself, no matter what she says about safety, but it would have been a hell of a lot easier to communicate with them if they didn't know.

I'll keep an eye on her. I'll stick close to her to make sure they don't do anything. Sammy will too.

Disneyland tomorrow. I'm going to make these kids' dreams come true if it bankrupts the whole nation.

August 7th

I'm so tired. We're finally on our way home, although very slowly.

Dean surprised us with passes into Disneyland. We got fast pass and everything we needed to ride everything as quickly as possible.

I think I threw up twice, maybe three times. It was worth it.

Space Mountain was one of two rides we liked so much we had to visit twice. The swirling lights at the beginning is disorienting and then there's just darkness with only enough light that your eyes know you're moving instead of just the harsh sway of your body...

Ugh, I'm going to be sick again. I can still feel all of the rides deep in my bones.

Tower of Terror was the other one. Up, up, up. Some ghosts. And then—DOWN DOWN, UP, DOWN-

Oh, damn. I need to stop thinking about those rides.

It was the best two days of my entire life-

Sam: Dae is having herself a little personal time.

We had a great time at Disneyland and California Adventure. Dean bought us souvenirs and brightly colored clothes and more food than we should ever have eaten.

Thankfully, Dean and I took turns riding with Dae. Neither of us are as sick as she is, but Dean had it worse than I did anyway. As it turns out, I'm the strongest when it comes to enduring amusement parks. Thankfully there were no actual clowns to bother us. Mascots of Mickey, the Princesses, and other characters signed an autograph book for Dae.

Dean even sent her to have a meal with Ariel (The Little Mermaid).

He really went out of his way to treat us. I'm glad he did. As a hunter I didn't think I would ever get the chance to have a vacation like that. Even when we were on our way here, I thought we would take care of the shapeshifters and then head back to the bunker.

It's a good thing I was wrong.

Dean drew the line at Seaworld.

August 8th

Remember that ritual I mentioned? The one that lets me relive all of my memories?

I think I'll be using that one quite a bit for the next few days.

I'll avoid the spinning rides, but I want to remember spending all of that time with Sam and Dean.

I swear, there was this moment when me and Dean were so close I could have kissed him. He probably would have let me! Oh, just thinking about it gives me butterflies...

But then I heaved over a trash can and the moment was over.

One day, maybe.

Still. Forgetting about the few times I almost got romantic with Dean, it was so kind of him to let us play. He gave me everything I asked for. I tried not to ask for much, but it's Disneyland for Chuck's sake! The place was made to spend every cent a person could have.

And the fireworks were incredible. I was sandwiched between Sam and Dean, licking an icecream, staring up at the sky as it burst into flames over and over. There were characters flying over the castle, and music from all the favourite Disney shows.

I looked down at some point and saw a kids face just glowing with excitement. It was twelve-thousand-times better than Christmas for him.

I'll never forget what Dean did for us. I'll never forget his expression while we rode the teacups, or the way he laughed as Sam tried to talk his way to the front of a line.

It was... I can't even explain it. It was magical.

I would know.

Dean:

Before Dae posts this I want to tell everyone that while Dae was watching that kid during the fireworks I was watching her. Her face lit up just as much as his did. She made the entire thing worthwhile.

And, she's right, Sammy trying to flirt his way ahead in line is always hilarious.


	5. Totally True Story

I am what you would call an 'unreliable narrator'. Sammy taught me that.

So while I'm telling you my truth, or really anything at all, you can't be certain that it is true. Especially because this is a personal blog. I could tell you anything. Whether it's true, or just true to me, or a complete lie. You don't know any better.

So everything is true, right?

I am in love with Dean. He and Sam are my dearest friends. There are angels. Most angels are dicks, but one of them, Castiel, is much less of a dick because he's a little in love with Dean, too. The King of Hell is named Crowley and we have him on speed-dial. God writes terrible books about our lives, and is a cult-classic author.

It's all true.

You allow it to be true.

I allow it to be true.

Damn, Sam has ruined my life with this. I'm worried about every word I write. I'm hyper-aware of it all. I'm not lying to you!

But you'll never know that for sure.

I could make up some random story about how Dean confessed his love—Wait, I actually could. People do that. I mean, it's weird. It would be weird, right?

…...

Don't tell Dean.

 _One night at a hunt the gorgeous Dae, with her hair flowing softly in the wind, completed yet another ritual to save the ass of her handsome fellow hunter._

 _"There." She grinned, her golden eyes shining in the moonlight as she looked down at Dean. "All sealed."_

 _Dean sat across a recently re-dug grave. He was injured, his shirt ripped open to expose his toned mid-section. Sweat glistened on his skin. His hair was swept back, probably in need of a haircut soon. "Good job, Dae. You kicked ass."_

 _"Yes I did. Thanks for finally noticing." Dae skipped around the grave. If they hadn't sealed away the souls of the recently dead, the corpse below would be clambering for a bite of flesh._

 _Dean opened his arms and Dae laid herself across his lap, her head cradled against his neck. Dean sighed, content._

 _"You know, Dae, this time I've spent hunting with you? It's been a hell of a lot more fun than I thought it'd be. I'm glad you're here with me."_

 _"Oh, Dean. That's so kind of you. Really, I'm just trying to do the right thing here."_

 _Dean held her in his arms, tightening his embrace. "I mean it. You're incredible."_

 _Dae smiled against his damp skin, breathing him in. He smelt of sweat and earth, in the best way. "You know I love you, right? I really, really do."_

 _"I know, Dae." Dean was silent for several moments while they sat under the night sky. Then, almost in a whisper, he told her the one thing she'd always hoped to hear him say. "I love you too."_

And then he would get all cute and embarrassed for a minute before he would become his usual "I'm a big manly man" self again.

I think I would die.

I think I would actually just die. He could roll me over and leave me in that grave I would be so dead from happiness and just utter shock.

So, if anyone asks, that's what happened. Total truth.

And our little secret, okay?

Thanks. I know I can always count on you!


	6. More Secrets

I've made certain that, for the time being, neither Sam nor Dean will be able to read this blog post. It is very important that they do not find out. This is another secret you will have to keep for me.

I think I'm going to be killed. Not by a demon, or a rogue angel. Not by a hunter. I think that a former rivaling coven is hunting down members from mine. I think that I'm one of the last three they've yet to find.

I've tried everything to get in touch with my sisters, and none of them had gotten back to me until today. Nessie, as we called her, is terrified. She's seen them. They're watching her. They were watching her as we Skyped. Now I'm terrified because I could see them, too. If they saw me, recognized me, then it's only a matter of time.

I don't want to worry Sam or Dean about this. I don't want them to get involved with an entire coven of vengeful witches. It wouldn't be right. I love them both, and I want to protect them.

But I can't face this coven alone, either. And I can't stay in the bunker while I'm being tracked down, no matter how much safer it is here. I have to leave, and I have to make sure that they won't follow, or try to contact me until this is all over.

If there is one person I would tell about my predicament it's probably Crowley. The King of Hell would have some way to help me without getting the Winchesters involved. The only problem is that he doesn't owe me for anything, and there is no way I want to be indebted to the likes of him. But, ugh, I'll have to be. If I want to survive. And, well, I sort of would like to continue living. As hard as I am to kill, witches can always find a way. I know. I am one.

I've prayed to all the gods I know, without answer. It's hard to do any sort of ritual in the bunker, but I've tried to put protection spells on my self and belongings. I'm readying to leave. I'll write a note and put it in my room for the boys to find. I'm leaving tonight, while they're asleep.I have to. To keep them safe.

I know it's the same thing they always do, and I think they're such idiots for trying to face these things on their own. I know that if it were one of them doing this, I would yell at them for thinking that they knew how to keep everyone safe on their own. They know to consult me. And I should consult them.

I won't, though. It's not safe.

So I am going to make the same mistake that the team has made countless times before. At least I'm fully aware of it. I guess.

I just don't want to get them hurt. I don't want to get them involved in this war. They are so precious to me.

Plus, I know I'm going to have to use black magic to fight. And other methods that the Winchesters and co. disapprove of.

I hope I don't have to be away for long. I'll miss them. I'll miss Sam's cooking, and Dean's singing. I'll miss our study sessions. I know it will be more than a few days to settle the score with this coven. It may be so many months. I can't talk to them at all during the time I'm away, just in case.

They're going to worry. Hell, I'll be worried about them.

I think I'm just going to end up repeating myself. I have to finish packing some ingredients, and write that note. I'm going to call Nessie back. She was running somewhere safer, and we are going to meet up if we're both still safe.

Wish me luck.

Please don't tell Sam or Dean what's going on. If there's an emergency I'll know about it. Thank you for all of your support.

 _ **I'll keep the blog updated.**_


	7. The Hunt For Nessie

It's been a few days now, and I have barely heard anything from Nessie. I know she's alive, because she sent me an e-mail yesterday morning to tell me so. It's dangerous to communicate, even with temporary accounts, but I'm so glad she did.

I've been searching for her tirelessly. She hadn't made it to our meeting spot, nor the several after that. We had a system to leave clues, that Nessie had come up with herself, but none of them actually led me to her. I am so worried about her.

Meanwhile, Sam and Dean are worried about me. Crowley has been keeping me informed about them and what they're doing. They'll figure him out soon enough and demand information on me, but I trust Crowley—about as much as one can trust the King of Hell. He won't lead them to me. I don't want them to come after me, so I have to trust that Crowley will keep them in the dark.

My note to the Winchesters said that I had a friend who was in trouble, and that I would be in touch when I could be. It was the easiest way not to have them rip apart the country to find me. Checking my phone once a day, they've left several messages.

"Dae," Sam said in the most sincere tone, "don't do anything alone that you don't have to. Me and Dean? We care about you. Tell us where you are and we'll come to you. No matter what is going on, we will help you in any way we can."

The two messages Sam had left were like that. Supportive. Caring. Inspirational, even.

Dean's messages? All eight of them?

"Dae, I swear to god, if you are the one that ate the last slice of pie, I will throw out all of your witchy crap and rent your room out to a rabid werewolf with a shedding problem."

And then:

"Dae... Who are you trying to help? Why can't you tell us? Is it a boy?" His tone was teasing, and I could hear him chewing on something the entire time, like he called just because he was on a snack break. "Use protection. The witchy kind, and the sex kind. Don't bring any weird diseases back to the bunker."

At least one message was more than one sentence long. And it was almost caring:

"Where the hell have you been? Sam thinks you're doing something stupid. He didn't say stupid. I said stupid. You're not a stupid person, Dae. Just get your ass back to the bunker!" Dean yelled in one of his messages. "Before Sam tries to guilt me into coming after you. It's ridiculous. What the hell are you doing, Dae? What friend are you helping? Why is Crowley- Dammit, gotta go. Burgers are cooking."

So Dean doesn't seem too worried about me. At least I know he's still eating well.

Back to what's actually going on, with this whole death threat thing, I have very little news. No one from the old coven have contacted me, not by any modern means or with magic. Unlike Nessie, I appear to be safe for the time being.

It won't last forever, especially with my search for Nessie putting me so close to them at all times.

Hold on, she's calling again.

Nessie's close! I'm going to leave now to find her. I have to prepare some spells and leave a note for Crowley, just in case something happens.

Actually, I can leave it here.

Crowley,

I have made contact with Nessie. I'm going to find her at Illiad, the local club. I'm dressing up, and changing my hair. Find my eyes. Gold, like my shoes. Can you remember that? If this note isn't here, there's nothing to worry about. I'll erase it before the scheduled posting time. So, if you're seeing this, you should probably find me.

-Dae

PS Bring the hex bag I hid under my pillow. If you can't find me at the club, light it on fire. Witch stuff, you know.


	8. This Little Coven Of Mine

I'm alive! I swear, I'm alive. I still have golden eyes, and gorgeous hair. I found Nessie, and Crowley found us.

He brought the hex bag, but it turned out to be mostly useless. Thankfully.

Nessie's hurt. Really bad. It's magical and not easy to fix. But I found her, and she's going to be alright.

The next problem we have to deal with is the coven. Crowley helped me kill two of them. It was not easy. I nearly lost my arm, but thankfully it was a normal wound from a normal weapon. I can progress the healing of normal wounds easily.

It still hurts as though it's fresh, but it's closed and scarring already.

We're set up in a safe house—one that neither the Winchesters nor the coven would know about.

I know this is a short update but it needs to be. Crowley is going to be back soon with some ingredients that will help us find and destroy the coven that hurt Nessie and our friends. My coven family, I mean. They didn't deserve this.

They were kind, for what it's worth. Yes, they were witches. It is not actually synonymous with bitch, believe it or not. They were always helping people in the community, and making the families happier. At least, they did when it was convenient. That's a hell of a lot more than most people do, at least.

I respected everyone within my coven. I loved each of them.

And to think that they were all murdered, one by one, just pisses me the hell off. They almost killed Nessie. They almost killed me. They know I'm with her so they'll have the chance to literally kill two birds with one stone.

Excuse me while I scream into a pillow.

OH. AND EVEN BETTER NEWS. Me and Nessie? We are two of the last three people left from our coven. It's official. Nessie confirmed it. My new goal is to find our last surviving member, a man who calls himself Archer.

Archer has this great habit of making all of his spells look like he's shot them from a longbow. He was like our mascot, back when the coven was together. I miss him, honestly. He was both our strongest male witch, and our lovable fool. He filled two essential spots in our tight-knit family.

Nessie was the little sister that everyone adored and tried to please. Except, like all of us, she was as powerful as she was interesting. So it was a little like trying to please your little sister who happens to be a literal nuclear weapon poised to detonate at any moment.

I love her to bits.

And then there's me...Good ol' Dae who fucked with the gods. Did you know I was the 'High Priestess' of our coven? Yeah, I was. That was before I got the eye ichor thing. Our last High Priestess stepped down to raise her family a million miles away, and I was begged to take her place.

I tried so hard to keep us together, and to keep us striving for a better future. I swear, to you and to Nessie and Archer, that I tried. I loved them. I loved the coven. I never wanted it to end.

But it did...

Crowley's back now. Storytime is over.

Keep safe, readers. I can't be there for you, right now. I am so sorry about that but I have a few things to take care of before I can be by your side again. Thank you for everything.


	9. Part 1: Regrets

Things got out of hand. That's all I want to say. But this is a blog, and I have committed myself to telling you my story as it happens. I'm a little late on updating, so this is a recap of it all.

To whoever told the Winchesters that I was in over my head: thank you. Also, never speak to me or read my blog again or I swear I will hex you repeatedly until the day you either die or beg me for forgiveness. You betrayed my trust. I will not forget that.

So, if you're still reading this, thank you for not telling the Winchesters about my coven affairs. It's good to know that I can trust some people.

After finding Nessie, and finding Archer, we set up a plan to burn those damn witches at the stake. Which, yes, is evil. I'm a bad person. I know. I'm getting enough of a lecture from Dean and Sam... Crowley is proud of me, which makes me rethink my entire life.

Archer, when we found him, was ready for a magic fight. He knew where to find our rival coven, and knew about as much about each member as he could track down. Really, all the work that needed to be done was already done. I was mad as hell knowing that he'd been tracking them for months while they were murdering our former coven members. He didn't call or anything.

But at least we could form a plan of attack immediately after gathering.

Crowley left once Archer showed up. He had really only agreed to help me find the surviving members, and that was accomplished.

Archer led us to his home, where all of his data and witchery supplies were stored safely in the dark, moldy basement. We arrived just after dark, Nessie and myself still sore from our recent run-in with the coven. Which is how Archer had gotten in contact with us, again sending me on a puzzle hunt to find someone that I was very afraid was dead.

To be honest, I was excited to step into his house. I hadn't asked Nessie how witchy she'd been since our coven closed. Archer was obviously mixing his magic with modern technology to keep track of spells and covens that were in use all over the country.

His home looked like something my grandmother would have adored. Doilies, creepy dolls that were somehow endearing to elderly women, ancient artifacts such as rotary telephones. Everywhere I looked there was either something old or something pretending to be old—Archer even had a cover for his phone that looked like an old mints tin.

All the technology was either hidden in cupboards or located in the basement. We enjoyed the tour, had drinks, and discussed our old coven members for what seemed like hours before we headed towards the basement. We were friends, even if we hadn't all gathered in so long. We had to catch up, even if there were lives on the line. Our own lives, to be precise.

We thought we were safe. WE thought the wards would still be up. We thought that no ones magic would outsmart Archer's when there was no way anyone knew he'd been 2 steps ahead of the coven all along.

We were wrong, of course.

The moment we stepped into the basement, there was an incredible surge of power. The entire house seemed to tremble and quake. There was no time to do anything. In a flash, several things happened.

1\. Whatever magical components Archer was keeping in that creepy basement, exploded. There were colours and lights enough to make me wonder if I'd been absorbed into a kaleidoscope in the center of Mardi Gras.

2\. The ground gave way, the foundations of the house shortly following.

3\. A horrible shriek filled the air, surrounding and deafening the three of us. Our ears popped. It was very uncomfortable.

4\. Archer disappeared. I still don't understand how, other than the obvious. Magic is always the correct answer when you're not sure how something could actually work.

5\. I realized that Nessie was never my first priority.

I feel like shit for admitting it. Especially now. I loved Nessie just as much as I did everyone in our old coven. In that moment, when for all I knew we were already dead, I didn't think about either of them. I didn't think about sweet little Nessie, or about tough and vigilant Archer.

I thought, "This is a mess and a half. What will the Winchesters do?"

It was as if their lives were a TV show, and I was just waiting for the epic climax where the brothers would show up and save the day... Or realize they were too late and have an emotional dialogue once it was all over.

Back to the list:

6\. I felt like an idiot, and the others probably did too. We had reminisced instead of spending actual time protecting ourselves.

7\. I really, really, just wanted a cup of herbal tea. Something soothing and healthy. I figured out later that it was a side effect of the magic used. It was supposed to get inside our bodies and turn our insides into anxious goo.

So, we lost Archer. We were lucky that the coven only planned for him to be there. I don't actually feel lucky at all.

A bit of backstory: I ended the coven because I didn't believe in it. I joined for personal gain—but I told the Winchesters it was to do good in my community. Technically, that was true, though we didn't go out of our way for people we didn't care about personally. We also weren't going around killing people or hexing cats, so that's something that I was proud of.

We became a coven of spoiled, lazy, bitch witches. Our previous High Priestess literally tried to vote for our motto to be "What we can't do, we won't! What we can, we do for ourselves."

The members became complacent. So when I became our High Priestess I took inventory, put all debts to rest, and made sure everyone would be alright on their own. I wanted us all to have a life when our coven ended.

So we disbanded. And I took a lot of crap for it.

I thought that was the end of it. I didn't think being in a coven would bite us in the ass one day. I didn't think that having zero contact with my old friends would get them all killed. If I had known that there was even a chance we could all end up in a shit show like this I would have done things a lot differently.

That's something you can learn from me in this blog. Regret. Regret everything. And then take a deep breath and let it go. Because, hey, you learnt from it. Next time your best WILL be good enough.

Nessie and I survived the basement attack, because it wasn't aimed at us and because Nessie acted quickly enough to get us out of there. I was in shock for hours after the split second explosion went off. Without Nessie I wouldn't have made it out. Without Nessie I would have stayed and tried to figure out what happened and how to use it to my advantage. Nessie knew we had to leave. I didn't even think about it.

Okay, I'm sorry. I need a break. I'll post this, just to let you know I'm alive. Somewhat alive. Technically, medically, I am as alive as I've ever been. I've just died inside, is all. No big deal, right?


	10. Part 2: Obvious

Obviously, the explosion at Archer's home brought a lot of attention from around the town. If I hadn't been in shock I would have waited on the lawn for those coven witches to show their faces. I would have waited and prepared every single spell I had in my pocket. If regular townsfolk showed up first, they would see a mad woman chanting in a burning yard...

I wouldn't care what they thought. I would have had murder on my mind.

I still do have murder on my mind. Screw the five stages of grieving. I've gone through each of them several times in random orders. There is no explanation to how I feel, or how I've felt since I became the last living member of my old coven.

After rescuing me from the house, Nessie made me wait, patiently, as she parked the car around the corner. We weren't done. Even she, immediately following the presumed death of Archer, wanted blood. Everything the coven had done was psychotic.

We watched as a known member of the evil coven walked along the road towards the blaring sirens and yelling emergency service crews. Neighbors were out in their pyjamas and bath robes, trying to understand how a house had exploded in a thousand colours while they were all asleep. They tried to understand why, and who caused it, and what they could do to be heroes.

I've had that feeling. I've tried to be a hero.

When that witch laughed and left the scene, swinging her hips and flipping her hair, I shook my head. I was still in shock, but I knew what had to be done.

"Shall we?" I remember saying to Nessie. That's all it took for her to follow me out of the car. We grabbed some bags from the trunk before silently following our best lead to our enemies.

Archer had known where they camped. Archer could have brought us to the pet supply store just a couple of blocks from his home. We watched the witch unlock the front door and check her surroundings before walking in. It was obvious.

I admit, Nessie and myself were far from prepared to take on a full coven. I also admit that if we hadn't been so fucking angry that we would have planned better, and maybe even called in some friends. It didn't cross my mind as I threw a hexed flash bomb through the front window.

An alarm went off, loud and shrill. We didn't hesitate. Nessie and I were the perfect team. We didn't say a word. We knew each other's strengths, even if we hadn't practiced magic together in a very long time.

I knew that she would stand back and use area affecting magic. She would cast lightning circles and throw confusion fog.

I wanted to attack each of the witches personally. I wanted to feel whatever I cast at them as it ripped them apart.

I did. I felt every strike as though I'd clawed at their flesh with my bare hands. The spurts of blood seeped into my skin and clothes. I swear, I unleashed whatever fucking ancient bullshit those gods had placed in me. Golden glowing eyes and all. I was blinded by power, but I could see everything so much clearer. It was like when you're underwater and you know you're not seeing straight, but everything is so clear and beautiful. The rocks are shinier, the sand is softer, the waves are a constant pattern of haze under the bright sun.

I saw everything.

I saw the witches, hidden in their basement. I saw them attacking. I saw them fall one by one, into their own magic and blood.

I saw myself, taking hits left and right that could have killed me if they were an inch this way or that.

I saw Nessie, hesitating. And where she was looking, into a corner, I saw what made her stop. Archer was chained to the wall, and I hoped he was dead. Over the time it took for us to arrive he'd been tortured more than I'd ever seen. His limbs were bent at odd angles, his skull looked deflated, his fingers were stripped of skin-

 _Sam here. Dae is with Dean right now._

 _I never should have made her start this blog. I know it's good for her to talk about what happened, but she is just reliving the experience over and over._

 _Someone who had been reading the blog called myself and Dean to tell us what was going on with her, and we made a bargain with Crowley so he would tell us where she was._

 _When we got to the town, Archer's house had already been destroyed. Dae would have just left with Nessie when we arrived. Dean drove around, pounding his fist on the steering wheel. I knew how he felt._

 _When more explosions went off, we knew that it was our girl. The shop front was destroyed. Kibble and cat litter was everywhere. Burnt DentaStix smell awful._

 _There was still a fight going on in the basement, evident by yells and blasts of magic that I can't describe the sounds of. We had our guns out, ready to assist. On the stairs we saw the first of the bloodshed. Halfway down, we heard the last scream that we would hear that night. It was Dae._

 _She was hunched over Nessie, whom Dean and I had never met. In a corner, Archer sat slumped; Dae had undone the chains binding him. She told me it was just cruel to his memory to let him hang there._

 _Nessie had been killed when she was focused on Archer. Dae saw everything._

 _Even I can't imagine what that was like for her. The basement was a war-zone. Dae and Nessie had killed several coven members in one night, in revenge for her friends. The way Archer had been tortured and killed, it was obvious that none of the victims were simply put to death._

 _Dae couldn't do anything to save her old coven. She tried so hard, to the last breath of the last member. I'm conflicted because of how she handled everything. From not telling either Dean or myself, to the way the witches were...torn apart and...somehow their skin boiled and their eyes froze. Whatever Dae and Nessie had done, whatever those witches had seen, was something I never want to believe she could do._

 _Dean is in denial. He won't admit that Dae did anything wrong at all. He tells me to be thankful that she lived, and I am! I am thankful. What she did... I don't know what to think of her anymore. Of all the evil creature's we've worked with...As much as I care about her, it's impossible to overlook the fact that Dae is, without a doubt, evil. And cruel._

 _I'm afraid of her._

 _I can't say any more about it, to this blog or to Dean or Dae. She's mourning, throwing a tantrum now and then that only Dean or wine and cheese seem to be able to calm down. Dean won't let anyone say a thing about what happened. He's scared, too, but not of Dae. He's scared of what happened to her. He's scared that she was almost killed and that he couldn't have done anything about it._

 _That jerk is in love with her, and it's making him overlook the obvious._

 _I think I need to talk to Cas about Dae... Something has to be done._

 _I think Crowley agrees, which is only more frightening._


	11. Move On

Hey, readers. Friends. Allies and cohorts. Sorry that I haven't updated in a while. Okay, maybe not sorry. I've had a tough time after...well, the battle. After I ended that war. No one is going to try to avenge either side, so all I have to worry about is the past.

Nessie is dead. Archer is dead. I'm the only one from my old coven that is alive. That is a shitty feeling, I'll have you know. It's even worse when I have legitimate cause to tell myself that it was all my fault. That if I'd kept them all together we could have actually defended ourselves and fought back properly.

I've been talking to Castiel, which helps. He's seen his family fall and tear itself apart. He's watched himself kill his own brothers and sisters. He's been through so much, felt so much pain, that I am so grateful for him sticking around.

He tells me, often, that he is part of my new family. Sam and Dean are my family. Even Crowley, in a weird way, though he's disappeared recently. I can mourn the coven, while embracing my family. My real family. The one that I can count on, even in death. I know who these people are, and I know what they are capable of. I know them far better than I knew my coven, and I know I can trust them better, too.

So, I spend most of my time with Castiel now. When we're not talking, we're watching movies or doing research. For the moment, I've given up most forms of witchcraft. I'm trying to learn how to heal with stronger magic, and how to form barriers that nothing could hope to get through. But it's all theory. I haven't practiced. It doesn't feel right.

Dean says it's therapy. I don't disagree. I'm recovering, and I'm moving forwards.

Speaking of Dean...

We all know that I'm head-over-heels in love with the man. He knows it. And now I know how he feels. It's, honestly, a little disappointing. He cares about me, deeply, but does not imagine that he would ever love me the same way I love him. And that is the simple way of putting it.

I'm not angry, or sad. I don't have enough energy left in me to feel either of those things about anyone else. All I have is patience. One day, maybe, it will be different. If it's not, then I'll get over it. I won't get over him, but I can accept that he won't love me, if that is the case.

And I can try not to hex the next woman he dates... Unless I find her particularly appalling. And I wouldn't hurt her! I swear, I wouldn't. I would just scare her a little. Really, it would just make it that much easier to convince her that the supernatural exists. If someone is going to date one of these boys, they need to at least know that.

Afterall, if someone dates Dean, they would have to put up with a jealous witch.

Sam's been acting weird around me, even more so than usual. I don't know why, and I don't think I'll ask him. What's the point I know Sam. If something is bothering him, he knows he can come talk to me. If he doesn't talk to me, then I don't need to know. I trust him. I just hope he's okay.

I'm trying to convince the Winchesters to take me out hunting, the way we used to before I started to use my witchcraft to help out. I'm no good with a gun, but that doesn't always matter. Just being there, with my knowledge, makes me a part of the team. That's all I want right now. I want to feel the power of being on a team again. Even if it will never be the same.

There's a haunting nearby that I want to check out. If it's a hoax, then at least I got the boys out of the bunker. We would have to find another case if we're already ready for one.

I think they need a by-the-books case to kick them out of their own funk. Just good, old fashioned hunting. It will make up for the time I spent away, and the time they spent looking for me.

Ghost hunting really brings people together.


	12. Beetlejuice

Screw imaginary friends. I've been playing around with tulpas, AKA thoughtforms, and they are a lot more interesting than any of my imaginary friends had ever been. Mr Cloud, the sheep stuffed animal I'd played pretend with as a child, can not compare to the actual Betelgeuse I made manifest.

Well, I sort of made him manifest. It takes a lot of very specific concentration to create a tulpa on ones own. Tibetan monks make them in packs, according to lore, and even they have trouble. For my first real attempt, I think it went very well.

If you've ever seen the Beetlejuice movie, you'll remember the part where the man himself turns into a large snake-like creature on the stairs. I wanted my Betelgeuse to mimic that, in the bunker, where Dean would clearly see him. And, wow, you should have seen Dean's face. He shot the stairs! Sam came running, and I tried not to laugh.

Betelgeuse decided that he did not like being shot at. That's where it really went wrong.

I really underestimated the Winchesters. Together, they apparently have a higher level of concentration than I do. They were so focused on Betelgeuse, they started to make him way more real than I intended him to be. Next thing I knew, I'd lost control.

I had to get involved. Sheepishly, I held my hand up and confessed. They were mad. Oh, they were really mad.

At least it was easy to solve after that. Betelgeuse started to do the carousel-head thing from the movie, and we made up a plan. We basically imagined him not existing, and he stopped existing.

I spend the next hour cleaning up after the bullet shower the stairs were treated to.

Sam thought I couldn't hear him while I was plastering the wall.

He thought I was too focused, but as we've learnt I can't focus that hard.

"Dean, don't walk away. We need to talk about this!"

"Sam, there is no way in hell I'm going to listen to that crap. She is not dark side. Not anymore. Get it out of your head!"

"You saw what she did-"

"I would have done the same thing if I'd just watched you and Cas get murdered."

"Not like that, Dean. What she did was worse than cruel. I think she enjoyed it, too."

"She did not. Dae just did what she had to do. She ended that damn fight, and she saved herself. That's what I care about, and I don't see why you can't just be happy she's still with us."

"Maybe because she's never been with us. She has her own agenda, Dean. How many times have we had to convince her not to use black magic? How many times has she gone behind our backs to? She's dangerous. More than we are. More than-"

"More than who, Sammy? She's our friend."

"I think that's a mistake."

Hearing Dean's strong voice defending me was such a relief. Some people think that witches being burnt at the stake was something from the dark ages, but it's very much a real problem that we face today. If Sam wanted to burn me, I don't know what I could say to convince him not to.

Dean was going to be the only voice of reason around. I don't want to die. I don't want to lose Dean, or Sam. But I can't help thinking that Sam has a point. I'm dangerous. Without the boys keeping me in check, I am a cruel, malicious bitch. I did not enjoy what I did to those coven members. It felt right. It felt fair and just. They deserved it, if they'd done to my coven what I saw they'd done to Archer.

What does Sam think? That I'm going to do that to every person, supernatural or not, that gets in our way? Does he think that I could ever do that to him, or to Dean or Cas?

It feels awful, but I'm sure that's exactly what he thinks.

If I want to stick around, I have to be good. Ew. Not that I'm bad, necessarily... I have been looking into magical theory for healing and whatnot. Good stuff. Magic that Sam would appreciate having around. I won't stop being a witch for him, nor anyone else, but I am willing to tone it down for him.

Even though that's a lot like a pro baseball player taking up a safer sport to please their uncle. It doesn't make a lot of sense, does it? But he's family, I care about him, and I want him to want me around.

Sam here. Dae is blocking me from seeing her blog, but I'd bet anything she's talking about that Beetlejuice prank. She could have killed us before breakfast without lifting a damn finger. I'm trying to convince Dean that she is dangerous, and that we should not let her stay here. Cas is on Dae's side right now. He tells me that he appreciates her struggle, and that he believes she will make the right choices. He's comparing her to himself, and to me and Dean! We are not like her! I don't care what we've been through, or what we've done. We are not like her.

I'm keeping an eye on her for now.

You, her readers, seem to know hunters you can call. I need some contacts. Send me what you have, I promise you Dae will not see it.

Stay safe out there. You never know who you can trust.


	13. Bubble Baths and Magic Missile

Would I let Sam kill me? Yes. I would. I don't want to die, but, hey, he's family. If he gets a shot and he takes it, what use could I possibly be for the world? I'd be nothing without Sam on my side. I know I'm in love with Dean, blablabla, but at times I have felt a stronger connection to Sam.

Dean holds a similar darkness in him than me. Sam is who I see when I want to be good. He makes me want to be better. Sam is the person I would change myself for, rather than just try to make myself accepted.

Sometimes, change is good. I wouldn't change if I didn't think there was some merit in it. I'm all about personal power and freedom. I'm a total bitch; I accept that, but... If being good means I can better take care of my family, then being good is what I need to be.

So, the question remains: what does being good mean? Healing magic? Shields and smiles? That's not me. I can't heal any serious wounds. Those times when I've saved the Winchesters by healing their injuries were times when my power was at its peak already; when I had celestial intervention on my side.

The one problem with that is... Well, actually, there are several problems. Mostly that I can't keep up the whole godly strength thing for long, and that it exhausts me to try. Good magic is hard, at least for me.

Nessie had area magic. Her spells lit up certain parameters and never struck a single person. She was careful, but she was a wild card.

Archer liked to shoot his spells out of a magic, ethereal bow. The arrows would either pierce a single target to do its work, or shatter as an area effect. It took him much longer to master any spell, but he cared more about his personal aesthetic than power. He wanted to be Katniss Everdeen, and so he was.

I'm a striker. Specific spells, targeted attacks. I like to know exactly what I'm doing. My attacks are strong, but they have limited range of effect once struck.

Healing seems more like an area magic. Shielding is area magic.

I do hex bags and magic missile. I use divine smite and chain lightning (spells that sounded a lot cooler than they are). Mostly, I just throw energy at specific targets and hope for the best. Or I do rituals. But even non-witches do rituals. Mine are stronger, and I know more, but that is stuff that anyone can do.

Do you want to do a small ritual yourself? Okay, this is crazy, but I'm going to tell you something that my original mentor told me; bubble baths are one of the most rewarding, personal rituals one can do. Bath bombs, rose petals, bath salts. Everything you add to your bath is part of your ingredients for the ritual. Whatever effect you're looking for (calming, soothing, stress/pain relief, etc), all depends on what you put in? Add some candles (optional, but recommended if you keep safety in mind), and you can summon strength from the waters.

I asked my mentor if that meant that all bubble baths people take are actually rituals, whether they know it or not. My mentor responded that intent is key in every ritual, so no. Unless you're intending it as a ritual, it's really just a bubble bath.

Smoothies and tea are the same. It's all intent.

My intention right now is to protect my family. Bubble baths probably won't help me with that. Vitamin-rich smoothies might help me with that.

Magic missile probably won't help me with anything.

I did ask Dean about his conversation with Sam, not telling him I'd heard anything specific. Dean got tense and told me not to ask again. I didn't.

I've been trying to get on Sam's good side. It's not working, and I'm really worried that I've ruined my relationship with him forever.

When did getting along with these two get so difficult? We were so close before. Is this what being a part of their family is like, or is it just my fault? I need help. I need Castiel back. He took off to be with Crowley about the time of my last post, so it's been a while.

Screw good magic. I just want to be powerful. I want to get my life back in order. I want to be strong for myself. I don't feel like myself. I don't feel golden. I feel...copper, maybe. Bitter. Cold. Cheap.

I don't know how much longer this blog will go on for. I want to give you closure, but life is busy and I feel more like I'm telling on the Winchesters than actually blogging the way Sam intended me to.

For now, thanks again for reading. I have been DaeIchor, the witch with the golden eyes that gods themselves granted me for power. I'm a hunter. And when I'm not hunting...I feel very alone.


	14. Running Errands For The Errand Man

Gods, give me strength to overcome my selfish desire for more power than I could possibly ever use.

Crowley has a treasury full of amazing relics and tools and weapons. There's ancient magic and weird symbolic crap. 'Neptune's Trident' leans against an original Bernini sculpture. Crowley is a hoarder of unbelievably important objects.

Now, take that habit, and make it 10x worse. That's Hell's Treasury. Lucifer's finest, collected over the course of Lucifer's long, long life. Even before Hell, there was a treasury. Before Hell, there was a pile. Before Hell... One item WAS Hell. That item, that magic, now sits at the center of Hell. Hellfire, some call it. The Eternal Flame. The heat at the center of the Earth? Supposedly all collected by this one flame.

Some say it burns black. Others say it doesn't burn any colour, because it turns colour itself into ash. Crowley says that looking at it burns your eyes out of your skull faster than an angel could so no one could know if it has a colour or not.

This flame, whatever it is, wherever it came from, however it was made, will never stop burning. Whatever it touches, wherever it goes, whoever it consumes...

Eternal Flame of Damnation. The center of Hell. Hotter than Hell.

It makes my skin crawl just thinking of it. Such a horrible, unstoppable thing.

And it's in the room next to me.

Well, 'room' is a little bit of an undersell. The room I'm in has a high ceiling and big stained glass windows that I doubt has anything behind them. The images in the glass are of flame and Lucifer in several different styles. Metal benches line the safe end of the room, set against cracked stone walls. It's like the cathedral I used to hide away in as a kid. Holy ground was comforting before I knew the depths of the power in this world. Evil doesn't shy away from anything.

I also don't shy away from anything.

Except for that door at the end of the empty hall I've been sat in for the last 3 weeks. These benches aren't as comfortable as the floor. The lanterns always run out after three hours. My favourite new sweater is totally worth the itching, even when no one else sees it. And that door, simple steel, may as well be the size of the moon. It consumes my thoughts. My every movement is a reaction to that door.

That side of the hall burns to step into.

This side just makes me sweat more than I ever have in my entire life combined. Even with protective magic (thought, to be fair, I don't know a lot of magic that protects against being next to the literal Eternal Flame of Hellfire and Damnation), I feel like my skin is going to blister before the lantterns need refueling.

Every three hours, I take a break. Refuel the lanterns, dive into a cold pool, lotion my skin, and check my messages. The three weeks I've been here, I've gotten a call from someone every day, sometimes twice. It's usually Dean telling me about this new show he's been bingewatching between cases. Otherwise it's Cas telling me that he hopes I'm okay and keeping my heart full of love and goodness blablabla.

I've turned over a new leaf. This leaf is happy and doesn't try to steal the flame that, for all anyone knows, is what lit the flames in Hell. This leaf, pretty and proper, doesn't obsess over death or loss. This leaf acknowledges bad thoughts, then gently pushes them away.

This leaf sucks sometimes.

When Crowley asked me to babysit the Flame of Hell, I was like, "Yeah, why not?"

And he said, "Well, darling, you may wish to think it over as there is the high chance of you becoming fatally dehydrated within moments if that object flares, and no one is going to check on you. Ever. You will be locked in the sub basement of Hell's sub basement, where not only can literally no one hear you, not even Lucifer or His Holy Chuckness, but also no one could reach you if they wished on all the stars. Certain death. In a moment. Have you ever withered from dehydration? I think you'll enjoy it, little demi-god. Or look at the thing and your eyes will no longer be golden. They'll be puddles, boiling your brain bit by bit."

To which I responded by giggling like a schoolgirl because I momentarily forgot that I am not evil, and I do not have a need for any of the treasures in Hell...

At all...

Not even the really cool ones that I could totally use to help the Winchesters hunt!

Grrr

But at least if I can avoid that temptation, Sam will have to trust me just a little bit more, right? He's still on edge about my freak out.

I've seen how these men react to their friends and family dying or being ripped apart or both. I've seen it from their own eyes, while they slept uneasily through nightmares of memories. But, somehow, I'm the one that overreacted? No, no, of course not. They just expect too much from me sometimes.

For now, I'm waiting for my favor to Crowley to run out. One month, he'd said. One week left. After that?

Well, who knows.

Dean and Sam are in Littleton, Colorado, checking into reports of some rabid creatures unlike anything the normal human has ever seen. It stalks people at night, especially in any cave-like alcoves. It's not very large, but it can dig holes out of flesh and bone or even concrete like a warm spoon through soft serve ice cream!

Or, that's what the locals say. I'm not worried. Littleton has a coven of nice enough witches that are probably cackling about the foolishness of mortals etc etc

SO, that's what's new with me.

….I'm trying to stop feeling the way I do about Dean...But it's so damn hard. He's always been so strong and protective... He's sweet when it matters... He gives such warm, comforting hugs I swear I melt every time he wraps his arms around me. I don't want to give those up.

So I have a request. IF you ever meet Dean Winchester, please ask him for a hug. It's not likely to matter who you are; every hug from Dean Winchester is a day of rain after a long drought. Tell me you got the chance, and let me live through you. What's that word?

Vicariously

Adverb

In a way that is experienced in the imagination through the actions of another person.

Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Please give Dean Winchester a hug for me. And Sam. Gods know they need them. And so do we, let's just be honest about that. A good hug can save a life, and these men give great hugs.

Oh! That's not to discount hugs from Cas, of course. He's just emailed me my daily motivational. "Old ways don't open new doors." Thanks, Cas.

Side note: where does that saying even come from? Did somebody hear the thing about a door closing opens one of God's windows? Cause, I agree, I would rather find a door than wait for another window. Windows aren't as easy to escape through as we all dream they are in our escape fantasies.

Anyway.

Thank you for reading this update. Sorry it's been so long, I've just had literally nothing to report. I'm in a sort of...slump...I've been running errands for the King of Hell, and who wants to read a stupid blog about that kind of boring thing? I certainly don't want to write about it. I would probably fall asleep if I had to write a blog about organizing the sock drawer or a King that doesn't even need to pick out socks cause he wears the same exact thing every day. Monday socks my ass. Just grab a pair, dammit!

Er, right.

Bye for now. Take care. Remember me, your old pal Dae, while I possibly take another long break from blogging to fold socks and babysit campfires!


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